Friday, August 17, 2012

It's been an eon since I last visited my blog :-) It dawned on me this morning, as I watched a nearly three month old Mini-Baby smile at the lush greenery outside our bedroom window. I had not intended to let so many days go by. I'd meant to document every stage in fact. But I got caught up. In expected changes, unexpected emotion and a sackful of hopes and dreams.

So, Mini-Baby arrived on May 20. I do believe in astrology and such things, and so I was adamant about Mini-Baby not arriving on that particular day. Nature must have heard only the echo of May 20 in my mind and did everything she could to accommodate my non-wish. But it was surprising, when I watched my water break again, that there was not a single, "Oh NO!!" moment. It was pure happiness all the way.

I remembered Miranda Kerr when I went on to deliver Mini-Baby. I thought of her, inexplicably, when I was trying to push him out. It had been too late to give me an epidural, and so my doctor, while efficiently dispensing orders to prep a room in case I should need a c-section, told me that I "should just do everything I can to push him out." Wait. Before I thought of Miranda Kerr, I also wondered about women who did this what...ten-twelve times? Without the happy effects of the epidural...without supportive women shouting encouragement and all the nurses doing victory dances.

Miranda Kerr apparently pushed out ten pounds of a bouncing baby boy from her Victoria's Secret body. I had all of six pounds and three ounces from a "far from Victoria's Secret" body, and whoo-hoo...I thought I'd reached my grand exit, to put it mildly.

Mini-Baby is worth every contraction and internal exam (what's WITH those?! Especially when your body is being ripped apart anyway, they go...well...RIGHT IN! just....YUCK...and so gosh darned painful!). He came out with a head full of hair...and knew me right away. He stopped crying when they put him in my arms. Just like that. It was gorgeous and all the pain seemed distant and unimportant. He looks like his Dad, Him. So Him, Mini-Him and now Baby-Him are all right clones of each other. It's hilarious watching all of them gazing at each other in perfect admiration and contentment.

I've been weepy and happy, scared and glad and mostly, very aware of the passage of time. Which again, is a human construct. What if I thought of my life in terms of, "the night of the grand chocolate chip ice cream cone" or "Baby-Him's four wet diapers later..."...it was hard writing those sentences without a before/after/moment/...time is woven into our consciousness. Our own construct. That we cannot do without.

I don't miss anything right now. But I dearly wish that I could pop into my childhood every once in a while, hang out with my Mom and Dad, see their energy and drive around us, and come right back to apply it to my kids. So, although my wonderful parents are right here with me, I miss them already! I hate to think of them leaving, being alone, and me not seeing them everyday.

It's been joyous and difficult. Seeing them with Baby-Him, happily engrossed in changing him or making him smile, trying to figure out the best possible remedy for a constipated baby etc, made me grateful and sad. A profound happiness and sadness at once. I only regret that I'm away from my roots. Besides the fact that I cannot get used to the fact that my parents are getting on in their years And yet, Baby-Him showed me that I've changed too. I've become mulish, according to Him, who is no icon of flexibility himself. But that's alright.

Baby-Him has had us laughing a lot. He's a fiesty one. Mini-Him was all good natured sunniness. Baby-Him is a regular ruddy faced demand-a-lot! He doesn't cry as much as bark out his displeasure. He's cute and when he pouts, there's very little any of us can do but turn to mush. Even Mini-Him, who will let go of his i-pad to calm him down.

The unfortunate events of the recent past had me thinking of the turns our world is taking...without warning and with less and less concern for our fellow man.

I don't have towering ambition for Mini-Him and Baby-Him. I would consider myself a grand success if they can be well adjusted members of society who can keep a roof over their heads, and help out in any way they can.

Let's just say that I'm taking one day at a time, much like Baby-Him. Every expression is precious, every calm moment is a gift. There's too much out there that I just don't know about, anymore.